If I wasn’t so humble and modest and soft-spoken and gracious (I
can keep going), I might be tempted to say I was up against a
stacked deck.
It should come as no surprise that I lost my Beat the Queen
challenge for a second straight year. Facing 2003 Garlic Queen
Melissa Noto in a three-part competition at the Garlic Festival
Sunday, it was a bit of dej
à vu.
If I wasn’t so humble and modest and soft-spoken and gracious (I can keep going), I might be tempted to say I was up against a stacked deck.
It should come as no surprise that I lost my Beat the Queen challenge for a second straight year. Facing 2003 Garlic Queen Melissa Noto in a three-part competition at the Garlic Festival Sunday, it was a bit of dejà vu.
I met Ms. Noto about five minutes before the first event and started some quick calisthenics. I’m a firm believer in stretching, and it would be one thing to lose but a whole other ordeal to add injury to insult.
We shook hands, exchanged a couple pleasantries and then made our way to the rock wall. Game face firmly established, I focused on the task at hand. I wasn’t going to be distracted by the goofy sounds of an accordion, people snickering at my outfit, or kids kicking rocks over the fact that some sportswriter had just cut in line in front of them.
I had a wall to climb and nothing else mattered.
I got out of the gate fast, real fast, and cruised to victory in stage one.
As I looked high over the festival, thinking I had a real chance to win this time around, I forgot that a major part of climbing a rock wall is coming back down.
Balance horribly askew, my back collided with nearly every foothold I had just used to get up the facade. The gentleman who was responsible for helping me get back down couldn’t help but laugh. He wasn’t alone, either. A good portion of the crowd was chuckling.
Despite having ample time to regain my composure before the second event, my nerves wouldn’t allow me. The second task was karaoke.
Ms. Noto chose “Dancing in the Street,” a savvy choice. I went for a song I knew was quick, simple and would allow me to hide some of my vocal inadequacies. I went with Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road, Jack.”
I was soundly beaten and rudely received.
While Ms. Noto got a warm ovation from the crowd, you could hear crickets after my name was called. I even heard a few boos.
Once again, it was going to come down to a flame-off on Gourmet Alley. Similar to last year’s challenge, when I split the first two events against 2006 Garlic Queen Sheena Torres, I was in a position to win. But here is where reality hit me like stale garlic breath.
There is no beating a Garlic Queen in her own house.
As we settled in to see who could create the greater flame, one possessing incredible height and volume, I turned my head to see when Ms. Noto would be making her move. To my dismay, she wasn’t holding the pan. Her helper was doing all the work.
Not again, I thought. Ms. Torres pulled the same shenanigans last year and I rightly called her victory tainted in my follow-up column. I asked Ms. Noto if she had held the pan and, to her credit, she said no.
This had to be resolved. I asked the pyro chefs if we could do another flame-off. The gents running the grills acquiesced and gave us another shot. (How these men work in such conditions all day is beyond me. I asked one how much water he has to drink to stay hydrated and he said none. Then he cracked a smile and said, “Just beer.”)
Trying to judge whose flame reigned supreme was tough. Using your peripherals is the last thing on your mind when your face feels like it’s melting.
So, I can’t tell you for sure if I deserved to win this year. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
But I have a hunch I’ve lived this story before.
